Per Autre Vie
by Tidia
Summary: Set after Devil's Trap, and based on the idea that the last scene was a vision. Property terms are used to show three points of view Sam's, Dean's and John's. Please read and review.


Author's Notes: First of all, welcome to my world of studying. This fic came from studying Real Property, and so the definitions reflect that. Next, the scene with Dean and Sam as kids, well that is my sister and myself, and the ritual that I used to have with my big sister. Lastly, I used the named Whitmore for the alias and that comes from Independence Day. As for the important part-- This is based on the idea that the ending of Devil's Trap was a vision. I must thank Ridley and Mog for encouraging me to post this. All errors are my own.

Per Autre Vie

_Per Autre Vie: A life estate measured in the life of another_

Sam's first instinct was to let go of the wheel and place his hands on his head, which was screeching a soliloquy. His second instinct, which won out, was to slam on the brakes. He heard his father yell, and John's hand slap the dashboard. "Sammy!"

Sam was squeezing his eyes shut, watching as the semi came, and struck the Impala pushing it down the embankment. Next he saw the black eyes of the driver and the wounded form of his father and brother.

He gasped when he opened his eyes. His father had placed a hand on his arm, which he shrugged off when he turned the car one hundred and eighty degrees and sped up.

"Sam, the hospital is in the other direction." John said calmly.

"No, Dad, that is **_so_** the wrong direction. That vision was a warning –the demon is out to get us." Sam explained hurriedly, trying to put as much distance between themselves and his vision.

"So we're heading to the town that is over 30 miles away?" Sam knew his father wanted more information, but the younger Winchester didn't want to relive his vision.

"We'll be there in an hour." Sam glanced at the rearview mirror, noticing his brother remained in a bleary eyed stupor. "Just stay awake, Dean, okay?"

"Yeah, I promise, not until you go to sleep." Dean mumbled, acknowledging the order. But, a half an hour later, Dean's eyes closed shut.

"Dad!" Sam had been driving and watching Dean in the rearview mirror in the hopes that by keeping some kind of eye contact, his brother would stay alert. "Check on Dean." He ordered his father.

John did not like the tone that Sam had taken with him, but his eldest son did need attention. He twisted in his seat, being careful to limit the jostling of his wounded leg. "Hey, Dean, come on." John tapped his son's face. There was no response.

Concern mingled with anger toward his son. Dean had placed himself in this situation-taunting the demon, then begging for his life and finally convincing Sam not to kill the demon. The feelings seemed overwhelming and John lashed out at his son, placing a hand on his chest where the demon had sliced into him.

That elicited a moan and a wet cough. Dean's eyes opened glaring at his father.

"Stay with us." John said as he again adjusted himself in the passenger seat, not giving a second glance to his son. John turned his hand, palm up and saw the blood drying.

--

_Waste: a cause of action that can be brought in court to address a change in condition of real property brought about by a current tenant that damages or destroys the value of that property._

The emergency room whisked John and Dean away. Sam filled out the insurance forms. A nurse practionner saw his face, and since it was a slow night took the time to tape up his nose and exam his cheek for bone fractures. She gave him an ice pack, and told him to rest in the exam room for news about his father and brother.

Sam thought back to the cabin. They had all been so exposed. He pushed the memories away, for now at least. The comment Dean had made in the Impala tickled in his subconscious.

"_Yeah, I promise, not until you go to sleep"_

It sounded familiar to Sam, and then he remembered when they were children.

Sam would listen as twelve-year-old Dean got comfortable, and readied himself to fall asleep.

"Night, Sammy." He would mumble into the pillow.

"Dean?" Eight year old Sam said, wide awake and unable to fall asleep. The concept of relaxing was foreign to him.

"Yeah?" Dean said, humoring his brother. This had become a night time ritual.

Sam sighed. "Promise me you won't fall asleep until I go to sleep."

Dean turned so that he was facing Sam. "Okay, Sam, I promise." And Dean kept his eyes open, because Sam would check. "Close your eyes, Sam."

Sam would follow his older brother's order, and let his eyelids fall shut. The pattern began when Sam was six, and by the time Sam was twelve the bed time ritual seemed to have run its course. Sam had grown past needing the reassurance of his big brother. As he got older, he had forgotten that particular memory.

He wished he hadn't forgotten memories like that, and wondered if he would have remembered it under normal circumstances. Eventually, his mind became lost in thought and he fell asleep. He didn't know how long the medical staff had left him in the room, resting, but the curtains were drawn and a nurse was lightly shaking his arm.

"Mister Whitmore."

"Yeah," Sam was startled. "Is it my brother? My father?"

"Your father is in a room now, and your brother is in recovery." She said, patiently, waiting for him to wake up fully. "You can go sit with your father, and we will let you know about your brother."

"So they are doing fine." Sam asked the nurse, knowing that she wasn't allowed to reveal too much information.

"Seems so," She smiled. "But the doctor will talk you later. Your father is in room 303." Sam brought his feet to the ground and followed the nurse.

--

_Ouster: the wrongful putting out of a rightful owner or tenant of real property, forcing the party pushed out of the premises to bring a lawsuit to regain possession._

John was awake when Sam entered the room. His drug induced sleep had been easier to overcome than the demon. He was left with the feeling of something slipping through his fingers. He never understood the meaning of those words until now.

"Hey Dad," Sam pulled up a chair near his father's bed. "Doctor said you're going to be fine."

John glanced at his leg, propped up on pillows. A drain had been placed in the wound and the bandages around it were slightly tinged. "Did they report the gun shot?"

"Not a problem." His younger son kneaded the back of his neck. "You were defending your son from some wild animal-just too bad you're a lousy shot." Sam smirked at the last statement.

"I shot myself." John narrowed his eyes, at his son's poor lie, "Wonderful."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. Too much had happened for them to be light hearted at the moment. "You need to work on your aim."

"You do to." John replied, meaning that he hadn't forgotten that Sam had shot him in the leg instead of the heart.

Sam ignored the implied meaning. "Well, Dean's better at coming up with stories."

At the mention of his other son, John was reminded of his parental role. He knew his son would be fine, because he couldn't accept anything less. "How's Dean?"

"Just waiting for him to come out of recovery." Sam hesitated, and then continued. "The doctor said he'll need some rest for a few days."

John nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. They sat in silence, and John pretended to fall asleep. Finally, a nurse came to get Sam and take him to his brother.

Alone, John blamed Dean. He blamed Sam. He didn't blame himself, because he was willing to make a sacrifice. And, that was the problem, but it was human nature.

The blame lay solely with him. What father would ask is son to kill him? A weak one. He wasn't a father. He had treated his sons like his peers, his comrades, and not his sons. He wasn't mad at Sam. He wasn't mad at Dean. He was mad at himself. He had hurt Dean, and Sam. But, then it was easy to hurt loved ones since they always returned.

--

_Covenants Running with Land: is an interest in land formed by an agreement between adjoining landowners to do or not do something with relation to the land that they respectively occupy_

Dean hated the drugs. They took the pain away, but left his mind to wander and then to a feeling of depression. He wouldn't say the word out loud, but he recognized the feeling for what it was.

Sam had wanted to marry Jessica. Would Sam have called and asked him to be his best man? Dean thoughts were focused internally about his feelings. He understood. He was the selfish one. He had thrown that term at his brother and father, but didn't realize that it applied solely to him.

He had to be stronger…better…that was the only solution. Wanting his family to be together was wrong. He needed to let that idea go. He needed to be selfless. Sam and John were on one path and Dean had to make sure that the road was free from debris, and pitfalls.

"You promised me you would stay awake." Sam walked in, making his way towards Dean's bed.

Dean blinked a few times. Everything was still foggy and disconnected. "Well, I was down a few pints. . ."

"No," Sam smiled. He pushed over the reclining chair in the room so that it was beside Dean's bed. "But, I guess this time you can go to sleep before I do."

Dean had no idea what his brother was babbling about. Yes, he was tired, and probably would fall asleep shortly, but he didn't need a babysitter. Then Dean remembered. He acknowledged the childhood memory with a nod because there wasn't much to say. He couldn't entertain the past any longer. He had to change.

He saw clearly what needed to be done. His need for revenge would have to surpass their need for revenge because his feelings for his family were not needed. He had to commit to this course, for his family.


End file.
